So Much for Goodbyes
by Jezebel Malice
Summary: [oneshot] On the verge of breaking up, Ginny grasps onto anything she can. (femmeslash: minds on fire)


(A/n: yeah, yeah... yet another Gin/'Mione.)  
  
DISCLAMER: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or imaginary places. They are owned and created by J.K. Rowling, published by Scholastic Books Inc, Bloomsbury Books Inc, Raincoat Books Inc, Warner Brothers Inc, and others. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
WARNING: Set sometime after Hogwarts. Ginny with sapphire eyes again. Slightly AU.  
  
So Much for Goodbyes  
  
"It feels like there needs to be more to this," the younger woman says quietly. She grasps the other's hands tightly, lacing their fingers together.  
The older woman nods, staring intently at their intertwined hands. The younger woman looks for a glimpse of honey eyes, but finds none. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment of silence.  
"For what?"  
"I don't know. Everything? Nothing?"  
The honey eyed woman closes her orbs while she thinks. "I'm sorry too," a reply of understanding. The younger watches the other let go of her hands deliberately and slowly. Her brown wavy hair, slightly frizzy from walking outside in the rain, swishes as she turns to leave.  
"Wait," the red haired witch says. "Please, not like this."  
The older turns back to the younger. "How do you want this?" She brings herself dangerously closer. "Huh? How do you want it to be?" A tear runs itself down her cheek. She cringes slightly.  
"Just, please kiss me, one last time. I know you want to."  
  
I know I do, and it smells heavy of perfume and cigarettes, because she smokes. She always has, and I know it. I can taste it in the kiss of our, supposed, final goodbye. We've had many of these final goodbyes, but none last all too long. The goodbyes are short. As are the periods of time we spend apart.  
Almost grateful when we part, I step back. Immediately I wish I had the ashy taste of her back on my tongue. I once told her I despised smokers, and would never kiss her if she did. Here I am, going back on my word. I always knew deep down she did it secretively.  
Instinctively, I open my mouth to scold her, but I find her mouth on mine. I can feel my tears smear against her face. Maybe they are her tears. I'm not all too sure. Not that it matters at the moment. There are just lips, and the faint scent of her old shampoo, from when I fist fell in love with her shimmering blue eyes. The old scent and the newer, bitter scent of liquor, cigarettes, and new perfume mingle in her hair as I run my hands trough it. It's still soft as ever.  
  
I can feel her fall deeper into this. I should have expected so. Never could she resist the comfort of my lips. It's all I can think to do, because this would have been it. There would be no phone call or apologies later, because it's her that is breaking it off with me, not the usual, other way. The way in which I get angry or bored and cast her aside for a month, then call her out of the blue and immediately are back together like magnets after an "I'm so sorry, I love you, and I miss you."  
I know she won't call or bother returning mine, because she has nothing to be sorry for. It's my fault. It always is. I am selfish. This time I do plan to change. No more empty promises. I really mean it, because I really do love her.  
  
"I need to go," more tears spilling forth from honey eyes.  
"Wait!"  
She lets out a strangled sob, "I don't have time for this! I kissed you, and it was nice, but you can't keep doing this to me. It's killing me."  
The woman with the sapphire eyes "I know it is. I really am sorry. Please, don't leave me. I never meant to hurt you. I really never intended on any of those things happening. I--"  
"You what? You're sorry? What the hell is this? You try and apologize and expect things to be all fine and dandy? They aren't. You don't understand!" Now her sobs are louder. "You selfish bitch. I can't even believe this."  
"I know, baby, I know. I am a selfish bitch. All I've ever done is think of me. I want to make it up to you. I want to hold you and make lifelong promises. I want to vow to keep them." She pauses a moment to sniffle. "I'll sign in blood if I have to." Tears freely flowing down her face.  
The older shakes her head disapprovingly. "Admirable, really it is, 'baby', but I've seen this song and dance before."  
"What to I need to do to prove myself?" She waits for a response. None come. "Just name it and I'll do it."  
"Give them to me," the brunette says.  
"Give what?" She looks pleadingly for answers. She misses her lover, and it isn't officially over yet.  
"Your cigarettes, please."  
Reluctantly the younger woman, with the auburn hair reaches for her purse. She unzips it slowly and reaches in. When she withdraws her hand there is a half smoked pack of Marlboro light cigarettes within its grip.  
  
I laugh at her through my tears. "I knew it," I whisper. She passes them to me, and I open the box, taking one out at a time, breaking every single one, right in front of her freckled nose, and discard them on the floor.  
"You want me," I say, "you keep your promises and don't fucking lie to me. This is one of the many broken promises," I motion to the pile of unburned tobacco on upon our wood floor. "This one is not to be broken, by any circumstances, or else you lose every ounce of trust I give you. And ultimately, lose me. The same goes for the rest of the promises. Are we clear?"  
She sighs sadly at the pile near her bare feet, "Crystal clear."  
  
I vow my soul to my love, my beauty, my life. I vow to keep my promises, never lie, and never have a reason to be sorry.  
To promises kept. To everlasting love. To truth. To trust. To her knowing eyes. To my deceitful ones, becoming less fogged. To my nymph, my rock, my promise master, the one I shan't ever need to apologize to.  
Never again will I need to.  
My promises remain unbroken.  
  
So much for the goodbyes.  
  
(A/n. Whatcha think? Review please.) 


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